


Unspoken Words

by bonnie_bee



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, Clint Feels, Established Relationship, M/M, Possessive Phil Coulson, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonnie_bee/pseuds/bonnie_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain universal, albeit unofficial, rules that every SHIELD agent learns early on in their career. </p>
<p>
  <i>Don’t drink the coffee in the third floor lounge. Even if you think no one is looking, don’t play games on the main deck computers. If you see Director Fury, you look busy as hell and do not make eye contact unless directly addressed. Don’t stare at the eye patch. Stay away from the chicken salad in the cafeteria. Unless you want all of your dignity and self-respect stripped form you in less than an hour, do not accept a sparring challenge from Agent Romanoff. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken Words

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to an old prompt over the Avenger's kinkmeme: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/8247.html?thread=18471991#t18471991
> 
> Any feedback or concrit is welcomed, and I hope you enjoy.

There are certain universal, albeit unofficial, rules that every SHIELD agent learns early on in their career. 

_Don’t drink the coffee in the third floor lounge. Even if you think no one is looking, don’t play games on the main deck computers. If you see Director Fury, you look busy as hell and do not make eye contact unless directly addressed. Don’t stare at the eye patch. Stay away from the chicken salad in the cafeteria. Unless you want all of your dignity and self-respect stripped form you in less than an hour, do not accept a sparring challenge from Agent Romanoff._

These rules get passed down in a variety of ways; the most common is undoubtedly first-hand experience, much to the suffering of the ignorant junior agent and the amusement of everyone else. There are, however, some rules that get laid out immediately and explicitly because no one deserves to get completely screwed over in their first few weeks.

_Don’t mess with Barton – he belongs to Agent Coulson._

This warning is usually accompanied by a few stories that may or may not be exaggerated. 

_There was this one junior agent who made some …ah… impolite comments about Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton’s relationship. I heard he got transferred to the Wyoming storage facility indefinitely._

_A few years back there was a handler who didn’t wait for Agent Barton to make it back to the extraction point and reported that he was an acceptable loss to the mission. Agent Coulson had him fired and blacklisted before he even made it back to base and retrieved Barton single-handedly from behind enemy lines._

Clint is aware of these rules and the rumors that accompany them – it’s possible that he’s actually responsible for starting some of those rumors. Maybe. Whatever, it’s hilarious to see the junior agents listening with ill-disguised awe as he makes up the most ridiculous tales he can think of. 

(He doesn’t like to think too closely about the seeds of truth in these stories, the shadow in Natasha’s eyes when someone suggests that she earned her place using her skills on more than just the marks or the all-too-familiar feeling of being abandoned that surrounded Clint in his dank cell until Coulson was there and then his world was warm hands and safety and _I’ve got you Clint, I told you I’d never leave you behind_.)

The thing about SHIELD though is that most of their recruits aren’t the type to sit back and docilely accept boundaries offered by other people. Nobody tested the third floor coffee more than once, but there are a few intrepid agents who regularly spar with Agent Romanoff. They never win, but there is a record board of who has lasted the longest (Agent May has held the top spot for two and a half years with 3 minutes 47 seconds). Agent Greene has been doggedly playing Galaga on the main deck for just over 19 months and the betting pool for when he’ll get caught and reamed out is just over six hundred dollars.

Even so not all the rules are meant to be challenged, and some agents have to learn this the hard way. Every once in a while some recently-promoted hotshot thinks that their level five clearance means that Clint should be in their pool of assets, and it takes a meeting with Coulson to convince them otherwise. Clint doesn’t mind, it means he gets to watch Coulson being a badass. (He mostly ignores the accompanying zing that runs through him when he thinks _you belong to Coulson_ because the vents in the Helicarrier aren’t the place for that).

Agent Morris is a fairly competent agent with an overly generous opinion of her own capabilities. The missions she’s been in charge of have so far gone off without any major problems, and for her most recent assignment she needs a sniper. Clint knows this because Coulson told him that Morris recently issued a requisition for his file.

“Thank you for meeting with me so promptly Agent Coulson, I have a somewhat sensitive issue I need to discuss with you.”

“Yes?” He responds, giving Morris a politely bland look and raising his eyebrows slightly. 

If Morris is thrown off by the shortness of Coulson’s reply, she doesn’t show it. Clint mentally gives her a point for that.

“I have an upcoming mission which calls for a sniper, and I think that Agent Barton is best-suited for the role. I was told that all requests for handling Agent Barton must go through you, so unless you have something already lined up for him I would like to borrow your asset.”

Clint is impressed with the both the directness of her approach and the blatant lie – he’s fairly certain no one told her that Coulson lends him out and probably more than one agent recommended she give up without even trying. 

Coulson, of course, keeps up his mask of indifference. “I would be interested in hearing who gave you that piece of advice, Agent Morris. Regardless of that, I regret to inform you that Agent Barton is not part of the general asset pool and is unavailable for this or any future mission you will be conducting. This is not a reflection of your abilities or performance; I am Agent Barton’s only handler.”

Despite her best efforts Morris is beginning to look a little annoyed, and the determination that got her this far means she’s not ready to let the matter drop. “Sir-“

“Agent Morris,” Coulson interrupts, letting a little of his own annoyance enter his tone, “Agent Barton is a highly valuable special-status asset under my jurisdiction and nothing you say to me is going to convince me that he is a necessary part of your upcoming mission. Further attempts to recruit Agent Barton onto your team will be considered harassment, and dealt with as such. Please feel free to relay this message to any other agents inquiring after Agent Barton. Thank you for your understanding in this matter, and have a pleasant day.”

Coulson’s tone says that the conversation is over, and he leaves before Morris has a chance to formulate a response. Clint takes a second to enjoy the look on Morris’ face, which is some sort of mix between frustrated and impressed. He would feel sorry for her, but she _did_ try to test the rules – she should have known that she wasn’t going to succeed.

  


Clint is already lounging on the couch by the time Coulson makes it back to his office. He grins when Coulson lets out a sigh – exasperation and barely concealed affection – and says, “Barton, neither eavesdropping nor tracking vent dust into my office are acceptable hobbies.” The tone is mild enough that it doesn’t even register as a reprimand.

“C’mon, sir, what else am I supposed to do for fun? I wanted to hear you defending my honor!” He accompanies this with an exaggerated fluttering of his eyelashes, playing up the swooning damsel image. What he doesn’t say is _I like it when you tell people that I matter to you. I like that you care enough to keep me safe. I like that I belong to you_.

But Coulson knows Clint better than anyone else, even Natasha, and so it’s no surprise that he knows what Clint is thinking. He walks over and places a hand on the back of Clint’s neck, and responds, “I wasn’t aware you had any honor to defend. I was merely saving an inexperienced agent from the embarrassment of attempting and failing to handle you.”

The words are delivered in a dry tone that only a select few people can detect as humor, but Clint isn’t really listening to Coulson’s words. The hand on the back of his neck is warm, and the pressure is firm enough to be undeniably _present_. Coulson’s thumb strokes across the hollow behind his ear, and Clint can feel his trigger calluses. The touch is possessive and proprietary, a claim, and Clint feels protected and owned all at once. It says _Of course you matter to me. I will always keep you safe. You are mine, you belong to me, and I care_.

Clint relaxes into the touch, and soaks in the comfort Coulson is offering. He thinks about later, when he’s lying in bed at home with _Phil_ instead of Coulson and those hands will touch the rest of his skin and Phil’s mouth will tell him _mine_ without using any words and he’ll fall asleep sated and happy and secure.

“I know,” he answers softly, and they both know he’s not responding to the spoken words.


End file.
